


It started with a letter about love and moving on.

by Tinynaut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Letters, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Ministry of Magic Employee Harry Potter, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Professor Draco Malfoy, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinynaut/pseuds/Tinynaut
Summary: It started when Harry found a letter in his desk. A love letter and a goodbye.Draco wanted to get over his unrequited love so he moved to Paris, after  2 years, love came knocking back at his door.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74





	It started with a letter about love and moving on.

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware of the CW: implied past sexual and child abuse, and talks of trauma. This mentions do not provide any specific information.

Potter,

Our lives have become so interwoven that's impossible to tell the story of my life without accidentally telling the story of yours.

We have met at every turn, mixing even more so. Committing to memory (for my part, at least) every gesture at every exchange. Studying, unwillingly, the outcome, the process, the spark of the too bright eyes, the twitch of a mouth, the tone of the voice.

Seeking, painfully, for ways to improve said outcomes. To avoid said encounters. I remains yet unsuccessful in both accounts.

I find myself unable to scape the interest you create in me, the pull with which you move me.

In all the years that we have known each other, in all the ups and downs of life itself and of our acquaintance this fascination that you inspire in my have never ceased, quite the contrary, it have only grown and mutated.

The more I get to experience the pleasure of knowing you, even from afar, the more difficult is to avoid falling irretrievably in love with every new part of you that unfurls and reveals itself. Every wound, every scar, every line, story or tale add to the wonder that is your existence.

But due to my unsuccessfulness of improving our relationship, I understand my love will remain unrequited. 

I have loved you for so long.

But green will not meet grey. So, I beg that you don't judge too strongly this letter. I write with the hope of moving on and letting go. A place to finally declare my unwanted love. A last hurrah of sorts. 

I'll thank you again, as I did many a time before, for my wand, my freedom and all you did and do for us all.

Goodbye Harry, wish you the very best.

-DLM

\----------------

Harry re read the letter (was this the fourth or the fifth time?), unable to understand what the fuck was going on.

While yes, their story were connected. And yes, they knew each other for so long, he felt like he was missing a big part of the letter.

The "encounters" HAD improve, by a lot. They were starting to talk, maybe even approaching a kind of friendship. And green DID meet grey, a lot. Like, all the time.

Even after all of Ron's and Hermione's comments, he still watched Draco at every opportunity. Across the atrium in the mornings and some evenings. While playing with Teddy. In the cafeteria.

He had noticed that Malfoy got...well fit. He was a handsome man that moved like a fucking model, of course he noticed.

But somehow, somewhere he misses the "unrequited love" part.

For starters Draco was the one keeping their relationship as formal and cold as it was. Right? (Stupid letter)

And pray tell, what the actual fuck he means by "goodbye"?!

He sighed and scrubed his eyes. He was too tired for this. 

Harry found the letter in his desk at work, noticing the familiar cursive he opened it without question, but more reading only left him with more questions.

\----------------

He stood in the empty, echoing and cold apartment. Hugging his house plant. Feeling both extremely old and absurdly small. 

This apartment was, no, used, to be his home after the war. After his father's death. After mother's...

This roof and walls contained almost 10 years of memories. Some happy (filled with a laughing Pansy and Blaise, a Greg baking for the first time, tea with Auntie Andy), some sad (nightmares, insomnia, grieve). They were filled with his screams, fears and joy.

A female voice shook him from his path down memory lane.

"How much time do you need to collect a plant?" - Pansy was smiling, it's hard not to grinn when she looks this happy at you

" As much as I see fit"rolling his eyes, "let's go, Paris awaits"

Her laugh filled the room as they left. Moving on is easier with her at your side.

\----------------

They days and months passed as they always did. Coffee in the morning, work, wine with a side of gossip.

His new life was both more peaceful and more entertaining. They were no longer green eyes and messy hair to follow and memorize (and the archive of his mind seemed to be slowly emptying) but work kept his hands and mind busy. 

By the time bedtime came, he no longer had time to catalog and relieve every encounter and movement. So, memories of green eyes were fading.

\----------------

He took to carrying the letter with him. It brought him luck.

After the letter he ended his Very bad relationship, got a promotion. Life was becoming easier, move enjoyable. Finally.

Even if his closest friends didn't believe and were too tired to hear his theories, it was undeniable that this were better.

If that meant retracing the perfect cursive and going through memories of soft looking white blond and grey eyes in a exquisite package, that was between him and himself really.

And if said promotion made him travel europe, and HAVING to be in Paris at this moment, only a few hours away from pointy faces all the better.

\----------------

His lecture had run long, the students were walking out of the classroom with happy faces and discussing the class.

When he was a kid he never imagined he would be a historian (a Quidditch player maybe, a man of leisure surely, but not this) but he loved it.

He enjoyed passing the appreciation for story telling to his students. 

As Draco moved to sort and put away his things so he could leave for the day, his mind occupied by tomorrow's class, he missed the man observing him, absorbed by his every move.

\----------------

Seeing Draco sodding Malfoy after the 2 years since the letter felt like a punch to the solar plexus. He did not remember him THIS bloody attractive.

The black muggle trousers fit hugging his long legs perfectly. A white button down with rolled up sleeves, showing this tattoos (those are new, are those..flowers? Covering the dark mark?). He looked strong and confident. His hair was short now. He looked like a model.

After an embarrassing long time just processing he cleared his throat.

Draco jumped, dropping the books he had in his hands, turning immediately. Harry decided that this expression might be one of his favorites. Flushed, wide eyes.

"...Harry?"

\----------------

If Draco Malfoy though that he was getting over Harry, he was wrong. He was very very wrong.

For some weird reason that he couldn't quite understand, now he had to spend more and more time with him. Almost every free hour he had was occupied with Potter asking questions, and being way too close for comfort.

As they approached the 17th day of working together, he realized that if not even moving countries would help his situation, he just needed to live with the fact that this was just another part of his life.

Being painfully in love with a man that will never love him back

\----------------

Working together was easier that he imagined. Draco was fun and interesting. He obviously dominated the information perfectly. 

He was always polite, showing him around town, sharing his favorite places, peppering some personal stories here and there.

Harry could help but stare at the pink full lips. His attention fixed at that molar in his neck. Wanting to kiss and lick and bite.

He might go insane from wanting.

But Draco was all professionalism and decorum. 

And there wasn't that much work left to do, in a few days it will all be over. He would be back in London, and Draco will remain in Paris, like this never happened. 

\----------------

The work was finally over. After 6 weeks. It was over, Harry would return and he might be able to move on, maybe.

They talked and decided to celebrate going to Draco's favorite bar. 

In between drinks they talked about the work itself, the publishing and the implications of it.

After more drinks they talked about "home", about their classmates lifes, their current jobs and kids and how being thirty was odd.

After they finished the wine and moved to something heavier, their conversation also changed. 

Harry talked about his break ups, about heartbreak, his now not existent love life. About his adoptive family.

Draco talked about trying and failing to find love in Paris, about Pansy. About her wanting to leave Paris, his parents deaths, the fact that he felt like a boat with no anchor.

They talked about the war. About old fears and new scars. About their choices and the consequences.

Draco told Harry about the hexes in the streets, the torture he endured, his (brief) time in jail, the harrasment, about That One Guard and the things he did to him.

Harry told him about hating fame, the fear of not belonging. How scared and guilty he felt with Teddy, how it took him 3 years to finally being able to hold him without breaking. He talked about the stalking, the harrasment, his failure at being an Auror. About Ginny and Matthew. How he was so scared he was drifting apart from Hermione and Ron. About his uncle, his aunt and cousin, about his cupboard, being hungry and scared.

They kept talking after the bar closed in Draco's apartment. Together they saw the sun rise, the day feeling lighter that it had felt in years.

The physical space became smaller and smaller with the time passing and the secrets shared. They were almost hugging but not quite.

Absorbed in each other and the conversation.

After what felt like hours (and probably were) Draco looked up, immediately stroke by bright vibrant green. 

Looking at his lips and then his eyes, closing in, slowly, the warmth of Harry's breathing against his face, eyes closing, lips touching oh so slowly.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest fic I have ever written. I'm happy how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
